A Light in the Darkness
by Enma Mitsukai
Summary: Live on, and fight. With, or without Ron, Ginny, Harry, Luna, or any of them. She would survive to see Voldemort fall, even if she had to deal the final blow herself. A Dramione AU in which Voldemort killed Harry and the war was lost. (based off of the Rp 'Secret's with Dracobadfaith.) Reviews are always welcomed.
1. Prologue

Hermione had to be quick; her hands shook as she dug through the debris of Olivanders, desperately. She needed a wand, and she needed one now. This area was crawling with Snatchers and Death Eaters, and if it weren't for her appearance singling her out as their enemy and target, the scar on her arm most definitely would.

"_Decree number one hundred and thirty five: Muggle borns, Blood traitors, and members of the Order that have yet to publicly pledge themselves to their Lord and Master, Voldemort, and accept whatever punishment (most often death or slavery) he deems fit, are to be hunted down and exterminated like the vermin they are". _

That was one of the many decrees Voldemort had instated upon his rise to power, and Hermione doubted it would ever be revoked. Thus the severity of her current situation could not be over looked.

The Order was spread to the furthest corners of the earth, all hiding, captured, missing, or dead. There were some she had simply stopped hearing from, like Ginny and Luna. They had disappeared along with Seamus and Cho. Dean had been captured and executed publicly, along with many who refused to bow, but still all their deaths had been somewhat dignified. When he captured Ron, that's when it all changed. Ron, her Ron, her funny, loving, easily angered, overly-protective, and brave Ron had been tortured publicly by Voldemort's most trusted adviser, Bellatrix Lestrange until he loss all control of his bodily functions and passed out. The process repeated itself every time he even so much as opened his beautiful blue eyes. They didn't kill him like everyone else, there was no green flash of light as the killing curse fell upon his warm flesh, no, they killed him by Cruciatus, and it was all to simply make an example of Harry Potters best friend. Each time the word fell from the horrid witches cackling vocal cords a tear escaped Hermione's eyes. She could still hear it, still see it, the way his breathing suddenly would become interrupted by scream after scream, and the shrill chortle of that insane woman. The way his body would jerk and collapse, until finally all anyone could hear for miles was the gurgling of blood falling form his mouth as the pain caused him to bite through his own tongue and drown. It had been stupid to attend, and Hermione had only done so to try and think of a way to save him, to at least try… but it was all in vain. As he laid there, the pool of red water flowing from his mouth, the mouth he had kissed her with and said such lovely things so often, all she could see was his eye's staring directly at her. All she could see was the fight to live on even after the light had died, and at that moment she had decided to do just that. Live on, and fight. With, or without Ron, Ginny, Harry, Luna, or any of them. She would survive to see Voldemort's fall, even if she had to deal the final blow.


	2. Cologne, Memories, and Panic

It had been yet another long day, of a long week, of a long month, of a long few years for Draco Malfoy. The Seventh Circle, formerly known as Diagon Alley, was deathly silent as a ghostly breeze passed through the abandoned buildings that held so many memories not only for him, but for the entirety of this new world, memories no one was allowed to speak of in public, memories that were rarely spoken of in private for the same reason, fear. The blonde's eyes mournfully passed over what was once Fortesque's as a sigh escaped his cultured throat. One more night of patrol, just one more and the next year was his to do with whatever he saw fit.

A noise, in the moonless night caught his attention. It was loud and obviously human made. A soft curse followed in a soft frightened voice, all from the building that was once Olivander's. Why? Why couldn't tonight have gone by like all the others, eventless, boring, and cold? There hadn't been any trouble in months…why tonight?

Draco begrudgingly pulled his wand from its hiding place and stalked towards the crumbling building. If it was 'rebel', which unfortunately seemed very unlikely, he would simply stun them and leave them for the morning post. That way he wouldn't have to deal with the horrid choice of whether to kill or enslave. If it was a test, which was far more likely he would kill them and burn the entire building. Desperate times called for desperate measures after all, and passing his 'Lords' multiple tests always called for whatever means necessary.

~~~~~..~~~~~

Shuffling a dusty box to the ground Hermione jumped when it made an awfully loud noise. Shit. She whispered quickly looking for any wands that weren't broken. It was almost impossible due to the way the Death Eaters had destroyed this place, every inch of it was charcoal black due to the flames that had eaten away at it in the early days. The days when the resistance still felt they had a chance… Now the brunette felt she was the only one left with even on ounce of fight left in her bones.

Another box fell to the wayside and finally Hermione saw it. An intact, beautiful wand. It was the first one she hand seen in months. It was made of some type of wood she was unfamiliar with and had been far back on the shelf, laying, forgotten. Which would explain why the Death Eater's over looked it. But how had it survived the flames? Had it been hiding like her? It was plain and of medium length. Nothing special, no fancy design or carvings, just a wand. A simple, yet lifesaving wand.

Firmly she grasped it and was surprised when a wave of energy washed over her. It was exhilarating and sent a shiver of pure bliss down her cloak covered spine. Cracking a smile Hermione stood and hid the wand up her sleeve unaware of the soft footsteps that slowly made their way toward her.

~~~~~..~~~~~

With his adrenaline running high and his eye's ever wary, the blonde made his way silently into the shop, wand in hand and breathe held. He remembered it all just as if it was yesterday, the impatience he'd felt with having to wait for so long to get it, his first breathtaking wand. How he'd wrapped his hand around the 10" Hawthorn and Unicorn masterpiece and finally felt like the Wizard he'd always been told he would be. It had been a strong connection, his fingers had tingled and his body had flushed with warmth. It was then that he knew that he held his wand. It barely left his hand for a week after that, and he'd practiced relentlessly, ever eager to prove to his Father what a strong and masterful wizard he was. He merely got the occasional nod of recognition for every successful spell or charm he completed, but it had been enough to encourage Draco to keep trying, to be the best. To make his Father proud. It was funny, if not slightly grim and ironic, how even now that thought plagued his mind. How even now after his family had been ripped from his life so brutally by the man he was supposed to worship, Voldemort that he still worried about their opinions. Forcing himself to forget the pain those memories brought Draco ignored the pain that surrounded his heart, ignored the viper that poisoned his mind, and moved further into the putrefying shadow. The man slowed when he spotted a hunched dark shape. Silver orbs widened to an almost comical size as the figure stood up straight, the hood of the ebony cloak falling. That hair… He'd glared at the back of that unruly head for six years of his life; he never forgot it, never, and he doubted he ever would. Draco's stomach felt as if it had booked a ticket on the next flight to his throat and was running late. She was supposed to be dead. She wasn't supposed to be breathing, yet alone standing in front of him with the hint of a dazzling smile on her lips.

~~~~~~..~~~~~~

"Granger," The body that accompanied those silent feet hissed through compressed teeth. As the voice jeered her name, and the shock of being caught hit her. Something from deep within Hermione clutched at her heart and stole the breath from her lungs. Her feet were screaming at her to flee, but her heart was telling her to fight, and in all the discombobulation her mind recognized the voice as none other than the slimy pureblood prat, Draco Malfoy. Yes, it was deeper, but it still held the same tone of superiority and loathing as before, as when they were children. However, there was something else there, shock, anger maybe, and something she couldn't quite put her finger on…

Turning quickly the former Gryffindor chose to listen to her heart and fight. Just as fast as she thought of reaching for the Wand she had only moments before securely put away, the blonde had it in his hand. All it had taken was a gentle flick of his wrist. He had grown in stature over the years, and undoubtedly in wit as well, that much was obvious, but Hermione truly didn't wish to test her theory out at the moment. There was something in his eyes though, something different, something she had only momentarily witnessed during the battle of Hogwarts…something that seemed to eat away at his silver eyes.

Thinking on her feet the frizzy and currently frazzled brunette did the one thing that had in fact worked in the past when dealing with Draco Malfoy. She threw a punch, all the energy she had left fueled her thin arm forward, but it wasn't enough. For it seemed Malfoy had in fact learned from their encounter in the third year of their schooling. He flawlessly caught her fist in his palm, his large palm that could easily hold both of hers hostage, and he did just that as she threw another punch, desperate. Her fists did nothing as she was weak, physically and more recently than ever before, mentally. The former Gryffindor, though strong in will was wasting away in a post-war magical world that wanted nothing to do with her _kind._

This was bad. No this was worse than bad. She was either about to be killed or captured, and she prayed to whatever beings she could think of for the first option. Nothing was worse than being captured by a Deatheater. Hermione would kill herself before she let them humiliate her in the way they had so many others, like they had Ron and Dean... The chocolate eyed woman's heart threatened to leap right out of chest, straight through her breast and to the ground. Somehow this seemed fitting, that her childhood bully, the boy she had, at one time tried to defend when her friends accused him of being a Deateater, would be the man to end her.

The blonde yanked her arm and twisted her body like a puppeteer and quickly had her back flush against his chest. His breath hot on her neck sent a shiver of pure disgust down her boney spine.

"If you make any sort of noise you're going to bring every Snatcher and Deatheater on the street over here in seconds do you hear me?" He hissed through pearl white teeth. This new world had obviously treated him better than it had the constantly weakening Muggle born struggling against him. Roughly the former Slytherin kicked her ankles and forced her deeper into the ruins of a store they had both once loved. "What are the exact words that you called me in our third year?" He ordered, the tip of his wand jabbing harshly into the dirt strewn skin of her jaw.

"What?" she choked out from behind dehydrated lips. That had absolutely nothing to do with their current situation. If he was going to kill her, if he was going to turn her over, why didn't her just do it already? All these questions raced through her mind as she looked back over her shoulder at him. Deep brown eyes met shallow silver pools. His chest and her back where rather close, no space between them, her arms captured and unusable at the moment. "Let go of me, Malfoy" she demanded, her voice a major contrast to her physical being, as his wand dug further into the flesh below her chin. Whatever was going on was odd, and perhaps if she answered his question a few of her own would be answered as well. "I called you a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach, and you still are." she spat angrily in a hushed tone, obeying his command to be quiet. A scent hit her; it was cologne, something she hadn't smelt in years. It was the same kind Ron used to wear… or at least she thought it was. The little things, memories had begun to leave her, and it killed her so. Hermione grew deathly still and silent. After all, it seemed she may be joining him sooner than later…


End file.
